


quiet til it falls

by booksnchocolate



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: "I have misjudged you, Chancellor.""Oh, shut up."It's the last moment things will ever be as they are.Neither of them knows it.
Relationships: Lapin Cadbury & Theobald Gumbar, Lapin Cadbury/Theobald Gumbar
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	quiet til it falls

**Author's Note:**

> I may have tripped and fallen face-first into a pile of feelings about a gummy bear and a chocolate rabbit. It's fine. It's okay. It's just raining on my face, I swear.
> 
> Title from [Rome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6COg7Y6kW40) by Phoenix.

"I have misjudged you, Chancellor."

"Oh, shut up."

It's the vicious slash of a knife wound; it's the moment before impact. It's the startled gasp, the inhale tripping over itself, the soundless flex of the jaw. It's the split-second between the cause and the effect; it's the final heartbeat between the heat and the pain. It's the last moment things will ever be as they are.

Neither of them knows it.

+

It's fifteen years ago, half a decade and a week more since the ravenous end of the Ravening War. The sun sets over Castle Candy, painting the sky in brilliant hues of raspberry and plum. Sir Theobald descends from the ramparts, footsteps heavy under the weight of his armour. (It's been five years and he polishes it every day, fastens each buckle fastidiously, checks the rivets every night. The weight is almost comforting, now. Without it, he might just disappear.) He passes without incident through the chapel and the library, with its dusty tomes. His sure-footed path does not falter: through the kitchens, checking the fires are banked for the night, up past the Great Hall where a handful of servants are laying out new rushes for the morrow's feast, down the long, arched corridor that houses the royal family's apartments, where he nods to each of the guards stationed at the doors. He's recruited and trained them all, knows their faces and their families, and more importantly, knows their dedication to _this_ family.

The royal family. His family. Not bound by blood, but by something deeper; they were the first charge Sir Theobald was ever given. After the war (and Lazuli; his heart still knows the shape of her absence), they have become all he has. He was charged with protecting the Rocks bloodline, and he has done so these five years, and he will do so until his heart no longer beats in his chest.

Sir Theobald has had plenty of time to make peace with his own death.

He rounds the corner absorbed in thought, and that is what saves Lapin Cadbury's life that night. Had his reflexes been a second faster, had he unsheathed his sword a breath quicker, the Chancellor would have been skewered where he stood. As it is, he finds himself pressed face-first against the cold stone wall, with Theobald's knee at his back and his hand at his throat.

"Let... go..."

That voice. Sir Theobald yanks his hands back like he's been burned, pushing away from the Chancellor none too gently. The flickering torches that line the walls aren't the best sources of light, but Theobald can at least see the Chancellor is unarmed.

"You should take care, Chancellor," he warns, sheathing his blade. "Sneaking around could get you into trouble."

For all they have been working together for two years, there is no love lost between them. The Chancellor sneers. "Well, we can't all stomp around like mindless brutes," he says as he pointedly dusts off his robes.

Theo doesn't let himself rise to the bait. It's late and training starts at dawn tomorrow. "What where you doing in the royal apartments?"

Lapin looks like he wants to bolt but Theo sets his jaw, daring him. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Everything involving Their Majesties is my business."

Lapin's eyes flash and Theo can see the exact moment he decides aggression won't work, switching instead to the silver-tongued conciliatory tone Theo hates so much. "I was simply bringing a book by for His Majesty," he says, all composure and false charm. It makes Theo grind his teeth. "His Highness expressed interest in readings on the battle tactics employed by the Dairy Islanders during the early years of the war."

_I'll bet he did_ , Theo thinks but doesn't say. There isn't much that _doesn't_ interest King Amethar about the Dairy Islanders, down to and including peasant women. He keeps his mouth shut. Lapin may be the Chancellor and Primogen of the Bulbian Church, but some things not even gods are privy to.

"Well? Are you going to interrogate me some more or am I free to return to my chambers unmolested?" Lapin's snide voice breaks the pointed silence.

"Go, then." Theo doesn't bother to hide the distaste in his voice. _Good riddance_.

Lapin sketches the most cursory of bows, somehow managing to imbue the small movement with healthy disdain. "By your leave."

Theo watches him until he's out of sight.

+

It's seven years ago, and the Saints' Day celebrations for the twin princesses are in full swing. Joyous crowds have gathered in Dolcington's main square, throwing up banners and flowers, cheering for the sweet girls who will one day become queens. Several kegs have been set up around the perimeter of the square, and the smell of honeymead hangs thick and cloying in the air. A band is playing up on a makeshift wooden dais, their songs getting more and more out of tune as they get more and more into their cups. Cheers erupt in the square as the royal contingent makes its way through the crowd to head back to the castle. The King and Queen are beaming, their daughters are giddy with excitement, and the townsfolk are lively and full of cheer.

Theo _hates_ this.

The crowd is rowdy, pushing in too close to the royal carriage and hampering their progress. More than once, Theo has to bodily shove a villager back from the convoy, earning him a number of disgruntled shouts from bruised egos. He tunes them out. Only fifty yards until they're free of the crowd... twenty... ten... He has the Tartguard securing the perimeter of the square, his most trusted men escorting the carriage, and he's personally checked the roofs of surrounding buildings for any hint of suspicious activity. His scouts have not brought back any word of dissent or unrest among the Candian populace, and the people here seem genuinely happy for a cause to celebrate. For anyone else, it would be cause for relaxation and rejoicing - but Theo remembers a deep blue smile and the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, and levity turns to rock in his gut. He is not here to rejoice. He is here to guard. He turns his focus back out to the crowd.

The air in front of him explodes. Golden crystalline shrapnel ricochets off his armour, his shield, the carriage. People scream and meeps cry in fear as shards of debris fall like deadly rain. The sick sugary smell of blood begins to well up in Theo's consciousness and his heart lurches against his ribs. The carriage, he has to get to the carriage. The princesses -

Theo hurls himself through air that's suddenly thick as treacle. A piece of shrapnel embeds itself in his breastplate, sharp enough to pierce, but he forces that awareness down. Only the royal family matters. He's always known he would die in their service, anyway. The thought is almost familiar at this point, like the mention of an old friend.

And it will all be in vain if he cannot get to them in the carriage.

A soldier is slumped against the side of the carriage, bleeding from deep wounds that glisten with the golden shrapnel. Theo hauls his body aside and throws open the door to see -

It can't be -

The members of the royal family, King Amethar, Queen Caramelinda, and the twin princesses Jet and Ruby are all unharmed. No blood paints the carriage walls or spatters the Queen's delicate gown. Theo's mind whirls, a dizzying rush of relief and confusion. The shrapnel impaled a guard not a foot away from the door, how did -

Then he sees Chancellor Lapin Cadbury sitting in a corner of the carriage.

"Chancellor," he manages.

"None of us were harmed," the Chancellor says, as though reading his thoughts. The relief is so intense Theo might be sick with it.

"Commander." It takes a moment for Theo to parse that Lapin is addressing him. "Do you know who did this?"

Theo's tongue turns traitor, clumsy in his mouth. "Not yet," he says, "but when I find them, they'll regret it."

"Go, then." King Amethar's voice is measured but firm. "We'll meet you at the castle."

Theo bows, immediately regretting it as a wave of pain radiates from the - oh, yes, the shrapnel embedded in his chest. Blood is pooling, sweet and sticky under his armour. He clenches his teeth, forces himself to stand. It's just a scratch. He turns to leave.

"Wait." Chancellor Lapin is leaning towards him from the carriage. Despite himself, Theo pauses. "You're hurt."

"I," Theo tries. "It's just a scratch." There are more important things to be done than to waste time fiddling over him.

"Close your eyes," Lapin says; his tone brooks no argument.

Theo closes his eyes but keeps a steady grip on the hilt of his sword. He hears Lapin step out of the carriage towards him; then a soft whispering, words too quick to catch. Warmth fills Theo's chest, like sunlight, like the first days of Highbright, like a guiding hand on his shoulder. The pain in his chest recedes and he takes his first unlaboured breath in minutes.

When he opens his eyes, Lapin is still standing in front of him. Theo can smell blood, thick and sticky; it clings to the back of his throat. But there's something else underneath it - a sweetness, not of caramel or spun sugar, but sharper, more vibrant. He's smelled it before, somewhere, buried in memory... he can almost taste it -

"May the light of the Bulb shine on us all," Lapin says solemnly, and the moment is gone.

Theo straightens to attention, this time without the wrenching pain in his chest. "Thank you."

But Lapin is already back in the carriage heading for the castle.

"It was over-pressurized honeymead," Theo says later that evening as he reports to the King and Queen in their chambers. "We worked all of Dolcington, checked all the local traffic and examined records of correspondence in and out of the town for the past week. Nothing out of the ordinary except that the merchant selling the honeymead was so desperate to get the barrels off his hands as soon as possible that he settled well below the market rate."

"And this concerns us how?" the Queen asks, raising one caramel eyebrow.

Theo sketches a quick bow before addressing her. "Honeymead needs proper breathing room, your Majesty, or else the gasses from the fermentation build up and cause the container to explode. The reaction with the outside air turns the liquid to shards and shrapnel as it's blasted out of containment."

King Amethar shakes his head. "Of course there would be a mead-related accident on my daughters' birthday. And I didn't even get to try any mead," he says mournfully.

The Queen frowns at her husband and Theo takes that as his cue to leave. He bows deeply and shows himself out just as the Queen's lips press into a thin line and the King squares his jaw. Fighting down relief at having avoided that particular argument, Theo nearly walks head-on into Chancellor Lapin in the corridor.

"Chancellor."

"Commander."

"Were you -"

"I was just -"

Theo gestures for Lapin to speak. The Chancellor gives him an inscrutable look. "I was heading to my chambers." He gestures down the length of the hall. Theo waits a beat for the expected sarcastic comment but it never comes.

"Right." Theo is at a loss. This may be the longest conversation they've had in ten years without sniping at each other. "I just finished briefing Their Majesties on today's incident. A poorly-made barrel of honeymead," he elaborates at Lapin's narrowed eyes.

"Hm," the Chancellor says, succinctly, and there it is, the old familiar frustration at this jumped-up primogen. The world rights itself temporarily.

Then Theo's mouth ruins everything. "Thank you," he says. He's surprised to find he means it.

Lapin frowns at him. "What for?"

Theo makes a vague gesture that he hopes conveys _for saving me from a punctured lung_ and not _this is my hula-hoop act for the_ _circus_. "The healing."

Something flashes in Lapin's eyes then, lightning-quick. His gaze slides away from Theo to land somewhere on the wall behind him. "It was nothing."

"Not to me." Lapin's gaze snaps back to him and Theo flinches at how that sounded. He barrels on before either of them can dwell on it. "And thank you for - looking after them."

Lapin doesn't need to ask what he's talking about this time. Instead, he only nods, a slow dip of the head. When he speaks, his voice is meticulously even, as if he's weighing each word that crosses his lips. "You are not the only one who would lay down your life to protect them."

"I-" Theo is reeling. He shouldn't be. It's blindingly obvious to anyone with half a brain the lengths he'd go to for the House of Rocks. He is their protector, first and foremost: Lord Commander Sir Theobald Gumbar. It's spelled out in his title, his name. Whoever Theo was before all of this, before the lands and the titles and the suffocating weight of plate armour, he is all but forgotten now. Here, now, it is only Sir Theobald, and he made his peace with duty and with death the moment the king's sword touched his shoulder. _Rise_. 

Given all of this, and given their shared - if not collegial - history over the past decade, it should come as no surprise that Lapin knows Theo's life is forfeit to the king. It shouldn't, and yet it does. Because Theo has put his life into his work, into every combatant felled, every traitor sussed out, every regicide plot foiled in its infancy; and yet, for all that, he has never once _said_ it. Each patrol of the castle defenses, each battlefield drill, each killing blow says _I will die for you, Majesty_ ; and Theo's lips simply say _As you wish, Your Highness_. To have Lapin call him on this, such a deep-rooted facet of his existence, in the middle of the hallway takes his breath away. No one has ever acknowledged that before.

He has been staring, he realizes, as Lapin shifts restlessly. "If that is all," he says, in that familiar, nasal voice. "By your leave."

_You are not the only one who would lay down your life to protect_ them.

Theo stares after the Chancellor's retreating figure. He thinks of the golden shrapnel fist-deep in the guard's chest, in his own armour; he thinks of the pristine interior of the carriage.

_I'm beginning to believe that._

+

It's one week ago.

"Do you want me to rush the education of these princesses? Do you want them to be as stupid as they-"

"How dare you! Give me one good reason-"

"One reason to what, lay your hands on me?"

"It's not a threat if I don't say it!" Theo can admit to himself that this is a reach, but in his defense, working with Lapin never gets any easier.

"What a large goon you are."

+

It's three days ago. Theo can still smell the stink of curdled milk from the bodies of the bandits on the Sucrosi Road. They've arrived in Comida, and still the Ceresian Imperial Guard won't let them out of their sight. It's not as reassuring as it should be. 

Theo knows what he saw on the road, when the bandits attacked. He knows the sweet, sharp smell of sugar-plum magic, knows his king had no right to be felled three times and still rise. He knows where the purple light came from and he knows now why Lapin has been meeting his eyes more of late.

"I believe," Theo says to Commander Grissini, each word measured and deliberate, "I was outside the carriage at the time."

+

It's last night.

_Is this something that... is this what you want_?

+

"Seize them!" The Pontifex's voice rings out and the cathedral floor shudders as the massive iron-wrought doors are barred. Suddenly, the hallowed hall is filled with the clash and clank of weapons, the screams of lords and ladies shoved aside as the Imperial Guard bursts through.

There is no time to think, to plan. Theo is reduced to ancient instinct, to the whirl and flash of his sword. He barely notices the weight of his armour.

"Get my daughters out of here!" King Amethar roars, and Theo is scanning for an exit even though he knows there isn't one. Wait. The upper windows... if he can just get the princesses safely to the balcony, they could - but it's hopeless. There's no way he can reach both of them - and Liam - in time; he'd need to be able to -

Lapin's touch on his pauldron is unexpected; the sudden rush of warmth that fills him, even more so. Theo doesn't need to see the purple glow - he can smell the rich sweetness of sugar-plum magic, and part of him boggles that Lapin isn't even trying to hide it. (A deeper part of him knows why, and rails against that knowledge; Theo's not blind. He knows the odds on this fight.)

"I have misjudged you, Chancellor." His words have never been less apt. _Later_ , he tells himself. _When we get out of here, I'll talk to him. Sort it out_. He forces himself to believe it.

"Oh, shut up."

It is the last moment things will ever be as they are. When he looks back, Theo will know this.

Theo can feel the strange buoyancy that fills him as his feet leave the floor. Lapin has stepped between Liam and Sir Keradin. Theo forces himself into motion. Somehow, he gets Princess Ruby and Liam onto the balcony. Somehow, the king joins them, but for once Theo's focus is not on his liege.

Sir Keradin is readying his mace.

A triumphant yell from King Amethar pulls Theo's attention back to the window where the stone crossbeams are shuddering under the onslaught of Payment Day. Theo rushes to help, tearing his mind away from the Pontifex and her paladin on the dais below. _Lapin is alone down there_. Theo yells, and the crossbeam crumbles. 

Stumbling back, breathless and sweat-drenched, Theo looks down at the dais. It's obscured by Princess Ruby's fog but he can just see Sir Keradin approaching the Chancellor. He has no ranged weapons; he has no magic. Theo has never felt more useless. All he can do is hurl insults and threats at the paladin, in the vain hope he'll turn from his path.

He doesn't.

Three vicious swings take the Chancellor to the ground. The Imperial Guard swarm the dais, heading for the stairs. King Amethar roars, "Get Ruby out!"

Theo has trained his whole life for this moment. Every morning he has buckled on his armour and felt the weight of duty settling around him to the exclusion of everything else. Protect the family. Protect House Rocks. He knows what he needs to do; his feet are already bringing him towards the princess at a dead run.

And yet. For one moment, Theo looks back. Princess Ruby is in his arms, screaming, but he can barely hear her over the cacophonous thudding of his own heart. There's blood on his hands and his face, sickly sweet; there's pain in his side that has yet to register. None of that matters. For a singular moment, Theo looks back, looks down at the crumpled figure on the dais. His chest burns, horror and revulsion - at himself, at the world - searing up his throat like bile.

_I have misjudged you._

He's running towards the window, regret a biting knife between his ribs.

_For Candia_ , Theo thinks, and jumps.


End file.
